


Likewise

by fangirl_screaming



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Planet, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But not in a sexual way - Freeform, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Crying, Drunk Lance (Voltron), Emotional Hurt, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Insipred by a Halsey Song, Lotor (Voltron)-centric, Lotor takes advantage of drunk-crying Lance, Poor Life Choices, Pre-Season/Series 03, Underage Drinking, and for that i apologize, and they may not make sense, anyway pro tip don't mingle with random strangers in bars, but fake, but what do I know amirite, headcannons are involved about my worldbuilding, or don't tell your paladin stuff to them either??, this is why you don't open up to random strangers at a bar when you're drunk, we stan a queen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25884238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_screaming/pseuds/fangirl_screaming
Summary: A Galra Prince walks into a bar, looking for information on the Paladins of Voltron. Instead, he finds one of the Paladins of Voltron in flesh and bone—crying, drunk and vulnerable.He decides to take advantage of that...Requested by Shiranai Atsune on Fanfiction.net.
Relationships: Lance & Lotor (Voltron), Minor Allura/Lance (one-sided. mentioned.)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Likewise

The warm, humid winds of planet Idianeutis slashed against General Lotor as he got out of his space ship. He took off his helmet and gazed at his surroundings. The crooked trees surrounded the opening he and his crew landed on. The soil was damp and soft, there were puddles of the pink liquid that had rained approximately a few vargas ago. He gazed up at the dark green night sky, then shifted his gaze to the lit up pub in the distance (the locals called this place The Hanged Soolian). Stars twinkled in the sky, as if they were blinking at him to wish good luck to him on his mission. He gave his helmet to General Axca—who had got out of the ship after him—. She brushed tufts of her purple hair backwards and spoke.

  
“Prince Lotor, should we accompany you in the lub?” Lotor shook his head.

  
“There will be no need, General Axca,” he responded, his voice was deep and smooth, completed with a rich Altean accent. “I will go there by myself.”

  
“Um… are you sure you will be okay in there, sir?” Another one of his generals—Ezor hesitantly asked this time. “It doesn’t seem too… safe there. Not that I doubt your skills in combat if you ever need to use them, but it would be better if we went there with you. Just in case.” A small smile tugged on the man's lips as he turned behind him and looked at the rest of his crew.

  
“I appreciate your concern General Ezor, but like I stated earlier, you don’t need to accompany me in this,” he stated, looking at her. “If we go there as a large group, we will surely draw some attention to ourselves.”

  
“But why exactly do we have to lay low instead of just going there with our guns out?” This time, the question came from the tallest of the generals, Zethrid, her voice tone was hinted with miff. “We should be able to take any information we want from them by intimidating them!” Lotor wasn't surprised at the woman's annoyance. Zethrid had always been the type to like shooting first and asking later, so it was no surprise that she wasn’t a fan of this particular mission. 

  
“After my father’s fight with Voltron, the Galra Empire lost its authority,” the man started explaining. “Before, people were being controlled by the fear of the Empire, but Voltron has managed to plant the seeds of hope among them. If I walk around saying that I’m the son of the leader of their imprisoners, I’m afraid the reactions I will trigger won't exactly be in our favor like the old times. I just have to gather the information I need about the Paladins of Voltron, there will be no need for unnecessary violence. Just a quick mission. The command is clear.” He heard the woman sigh as he threw his hood over his head. He took his sword, alongside the laser pistol Axca gave him—a fine Vargavos model 242 alpha (using his royal gun would be very foolish if he ever had to use a weapon, they were being manufactured specifically for the higher ranked men in the Empire and therefore they were easier to track down). He sheathed the weapon in a special case on his belt next to his sword, and let his cloak do the rest of the concealing.

  
“Stay safe, my liege. Vrepit sa.” He quickly looked at all four of his generals standing in front of him, with their hands on their hearts, responded to their salutations with a nod and started walking towards the pub. His steps sunk in the sponge-like soil, burying his feet in the mud and slowing him down. _This will definitely be against me if I need to run_ , he brooded to himself. _Just lay low, pretend like you don't know, gather everything you can find and get out fast._

  
Eventually, he arrived at the front doors of the building. The architecture—despite it being a simple lub—was impressive. The colorful markings engraved on the white walls were a neon shade of purple. The element used to decorate these carvings would react to the pollen in the air, and the colors of the engravings would change accordingly. The doors of the building slid open and the prince stepped foot inside.

  
The lub’s air was somehow thicker and less tolerable than the outwith, maybe it was because of the mixed smells of the various drinks being consumed, maybe it was because of the local tobacco being smoked (the name would be Umealt, and it was basically the Earth equivalent of pot), or maybe it was the drenching odors of the other people in the building. Maybe all three of them combined. The floors were made out of a kind of metal, the purple engravings on the walls illuminated most of the lub, supporting the (obviously not enough) lanterns hanging down from the ceiling. His ears were instantly filled with loud chatter, glasses clashing against each other, cheering, crying, shouting, basically everything you could hear in an Earth bar. It was a pretty busy night. He let out a silent ‘tch’ as he passed by a game of Kowkits (it was illegal to gamble on Galra Empire territory, yet these men still had to audacity to play it with the sudden bravery they got after the victory of Voltron) and suppressed the urge to pull his gun and arrest those fools. He sat down on one of the stools in front of the counter of the lub.

  
“ ‘Aye, what can I do for ya, gent?” The bartender asked him, rubbing the glass in his hands with a towel. “Maybe a goblet of Zextrux, or a chalice filled with Sektros-"

  
“Just a small glass of Rakki, please.” The bartender raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question it further (it was the drink, out of everything, that had the least amount of alcohol and it was probably surprising for the poor man to come across one person who didn’t want to get more stoned than a drained Balmera). A few ticks later, a tall, slim glass filled with a semi-transparent blue liquid was served to him.

  
Slightly bobbing his head to the music, Lotor took a swig. A little alcohol would get adrenaline pumping in his veins in a few doboshes. 

  
“Another one? Seklos and Gaylen, how many Soanfa bottles did this guy finish since he came? This is the third one, yes?” The prince nearly choked on his sip. 

  
_Three **Soanfa** bottles? In one night? And he’s **alive**?_ Then, a sinister thought crawled in his mind.

  
_Maybe he can let some things slide about the Paladins of Voltron without getting suspicious._ Pushing the smirk tugging on his lips down, he asked the bartender: “Where is he sitting at?” The alien pointed at a seat at the other side of the long table. Lotor sat up, and—under a few curious glances—walked towards the seat.  
The person sitting there was truly in a pathetic position: the hand he held the bottle with was trembling, he had rested his face on the table between his arm, his shoulders shook violently with each sob. 

  
“Sir? Is everything alright?” With a fake sweetness in his voice, the prince tapped on the person's shoulder and sat next to his seat. The person raised his face from his arms, his tan cheeks and nose were red, his blue eyes were swollen. His dark brown hair was messy and ruffled. 

  
He let out a throaty laugh. “Out here living my best life, am I right?” he said, opening his arms, he was slurring his words so much that Lotor nearly didn't understand. He couldn’t tell if this was sarcasm or not, but he carried on.

  
“What is going on in your mind, if you do not mind me asking, that has you so wrecked?” he asked. The boy sniffed and rubbed his eyes with his wrist and that was when the prince paid attention to the boy's attire.   
He wore an armor with blue shoulder pads, elbow pads and some shapes embossed on the glazed white surface. Some turquoise strands on the neck and shoulder areas gleamed softly.

  
Lotor's eyes lingered on the blue embossing which was shaped like a “V" stretched over the chest plate. His eyes widened upon recognizing what exactly that symbol was and where he saw it (or rather, heard it being described).

  
His hand immediately went to his belt and wrapped around the grip of his gun, but he didn't pull it out. He glanced around.

  
_Too risky. There are too many drunks I don't want to get involved with._ Slowly, he let go. Luckily, the Paladin was too drunk to notice.

  
“Well, the problem is,” he started, “everything’s going down lately. It’s been a few days since Shiro disappeared after the battle against Zarkon and the team’s just… so scattered. No one knows what'll happen, where he went… My best friends barely talk to me, the girl I like doesn’t like me back and I just miss my home. I miss my mom, and my dad, and my siblings, and my cousins and…” His voice wobbled and he broke down crying again.

  
_The Paladins are as disorderly as the Galra Empire. We can use this to our advantage._

  
The prince put a hand on the tan boy's shoulder. “I am so sorry that you have to go through these troubles,” he spoke, trying his best to fake an affectionate voice. “I hope everything gets better for you and the Paladins.”

  
The Paladin sniffed and smiled at Lotor. “Thank you."

  
What's your name?” asked Lotor after a while, even the slightest information he got was to his benefit.   
“Lance, Lance McClain,” the boy responded, then added. “Paladin of the Blue Lion, local sharpshooter.” He giggled at his own joke.

  
“And, where are the Paladins? We… have not heard from you ever since your battle with Zarkon, and a lot of people are very… concerned about your whereabouts.”

  
Lance yawned, not even bothering to close his mouth. “We're just chilling at some planet called… Kromixa? Korimia? I forgot, honestly, ask Pidge for that. She’s the one who usually keeps this stuff in her mind.”  
Lotor spoke as he raised his eyebrows, “…who exactly is this ‘Pidge' person? Is she one of your Paladin associates?” 

  
The tan boy hummed in a confirming tone. “The Green Paladin herself,” he responded, “we also have Keith, Hunk, Allura and Coran aboard. Oh, maybe you can say hello for me!” He yelled the last parts out in excitement. The prince grimaced, one of the side effects of Rakki was ear sensitivity (especially in Alteans).

  
“Could you tell a bit more about the Paladins?” He took another swig from his glass that the bartender brought from his previous seat. At least it helped him understand Lance's sentences, without some sort of boost for the brain or ears, it was nearly impossible to comprehend.

  
Lance shrugged. “We got Pidge,” he started, counting his fingers as he spoke, “Green Paladin tech genius, we got Yellow Paladin Hunk who's responsible of food and hugs and cuddles, Red Paladin Keith in charge of the edginess and the death stares, and the Black Paladin Shiro who is the leader. But…” The same gloomy expression from when Lotor first approached him settled on his face again. He sighed, resting his forehead on the metallic table.

  
“He got lost after the fight, and we don't know where he is. We can't form Voltron without him.” The prince was fighting another battle inside of him to stop the grin spreading to his face.

  
“One last thing, I have heard in my travels that you and your friends sparked up an intergalactic rebellion, do you know where I can join? I was already considering signing up, but I was reluctant. However, you persuaded my to.”

  
“I think the main headquarters were in Olkarion. And hey, no problem,” he giggled. “Also, can you do me a favor?” The prince raised his eyebrows again.

  
“What is it you want me to do?”

  
“I just want to learn the date and stuff on Earth.” He dramatically sighed. “I just miss Earth, y'know? And my mom, and my dad, and my grandparents, and—”

  
“Yes, yes of course.” Not wanting to lose more time with more of Lance's wailing (it was honestly quite annoying, he didn’t know humans were such crybabies), Lotor quickly pulled a time map of planets all across the universe. 

  
“It's the 9th day of the month of… September,” he replied after a while, his eyes were squinted as he read the small statistics on the screen on his wrist (he had to stop a few seconds to understand how ‘September’ was pronounced).

  
“Thanks! Can't wait to see you in the Rebellion!” His mood had instantly changed from gloomy to joyful. With a fake curl of lips, Lotor nodded and sat up. He placed a few GAC bills on the counter and left the building without saying something. He had been there for a while, but everyone else at the lub at that moment would say that he had come and gone like a shadow; quickly and silently. 

  
The soil he walked on was dryer, his feet didn’t sink in like 30-40 vargas ago, when he was heading to the building.

  
Once he was sure he was far enough from the lub, he pressed on a few buttons on his wrist, and stopped the recording. His lips curled upwards into a devilish smirk as he sent every trace of data to his Generals waiting on the ship.

  
_Likewise, Paladin Lance,_ he thought. _Likewise._

**Author's Note:**

> The date is not canonical, I just wrote it like that just because this fic was lowkey inspired by Halsey's song 929 and I wanted to make a small reference to that ok thank you
> 
> For the people who forgot/don't know, GAC means "Galra Authorized Currency", and in planets under the Galra Empire it is used as currency instead of the local currency.
> 
> Also for y'all wondering why Lance isn't dead (like Lotor), I headcannon that alien alcohol _does_ get you drunk, but doesn't really harm your liver and stuff because the harmful chemicals in them can be easily dissolved by the stomach acid and stuff, if that makes sense? But the pH value of your pee drops a little, so it kinda hurts those parts when you pee because it gets a bit more acidic.  
> I'm neither a professional doctor nor a good worldbuilder so if this headcannon isn't scientifically accurate, IM SORRY


End file.
